


He Wanted To Be A Pirate

by Sexyfishtalk



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Movie Fusion, M/M, pirates of the caribbean - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2016-05-13
Packaged: 2018-02-24 22:28:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2598806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sexyfishtalk/pseuds/Sexyfishtalk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes always wanted a life of adventure. When a mysterious pirate crew arrives for an equally mysterious medallion, it seems he got his wish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So this story literally follows the plot of PoTC. I've also come to the conclusion that these sorts of story writings are the greatest writing block activities in the history of ever and if anyone enjoys this story and wants to see another movie/book/anything rewritten with characters from anything else I am open to requests. Not sure if you can on this site, but if you can't then send your requests to me on my tumblr, BlogaboutSam

The sky was grey and the fog was thick, but the sea that morning was calm. For most aboard the S.S. Stamford, it was a fine day to mingle and participate in many of the activities designed to entertain the ships passengers during the long voyage. All the children aboard, but one, were gathered together near the stern of the large ship, playing games and watching the sailors work. The commotion of it all, gave one small boy the perfect chance to slip away without anybody noticing. He was the younger brother of a young, but fast rising  politician by the name of Holmes, and the boy knew his brother would be very cross if he were to know what he planned to get up to as soon as he reached the bow of the ship which was sure to be deserted at that time of day.

Just as expected, the deck was silent and empty, and the younger Holmes was finally free to transform from plain old Sherlock Holmes into Captain Sherlock Holmes. The most feared pirate captain in all the seven seas! The boy jumped around, fighting invisible foes with his wooden sword. Running and laughing, Sherlock was so caught up, he didn't notice the deck-hand arrive until he had slammed right into him, smacking his sword hard against the other boy's knees.

"Ow!" The deck-hand reached down and snatched the sword out of Sherlock's hand. He couldn't have been any older than fourteen but he towered over Sherlock in such a menacing manner, it made the younger boy back away with wide eyes. "What do you think you're doing?" The boy snapped, "Don't you know how dangerous a ship can be?" Sherlock continued to back away as the boy continued to advance towards him, hands on his hips and a sneer marring his face. "And were you pretending to be a pirate? Do you know how stupid that is? What if someone had seen you?"

"I think that will do, Mr. Dimmock."  Both boys spun around with guilt in their eyes. Descending towards them from the upper deck, were the last two people either child had wanted to see at that moment. The ship's captain gave his crewman a hard look while Mycroft, Sherlock's elder brother, kept his expression passive as he silently observed his brother.

Dimmock was quick to try and defend himself against his captain, who was looking at him as if considering how much faster the ship would go if he were to toss him from it. "Captain! This boy was pretending to be a pirate! I had to stop him!"

"Yes, we saw the whole thing." Mycroft smirked at him. "Thank goodness you stopped the boy from stretching his imagination on this never ending trip. Heaven knows what could have happened." Dimmock paled nervously, clearly unsure if he was being thanked or being mocked. "Return to your duties, Mr. Dimmock. I shall deal with my brother."

"But sir!-"

"You heard the man, Dimmock!" The captain barked. "Back to work!" 

For a moment, it looked Dimmock would continue to argue but he knew only an idiot would continue to argue with their superior officer and his shoulders slumped. Dimmock dropped his his eyes to the ground and gave a feeble salute. "Yes, Captain Adler." The boy mumbled before scurrying out of sight.  

With that problem taken care, that only left one more nuisance to deal with. Sherlock ducked his head as his brother turned his attention back on him. "I wasn't doing anything wrong." The child grumbled, arms crossed and chin stuck out.

"Of course not," Mycroft replied. He crossed his arms and gave Sherlock a chastening look, "Except for disobeying my direct orders to stay with the other children."

Sherlock stared up at his brother in annoyance. "But, Mycroft! They're all so boring!" Sherlock hated it on that boat. The children all thought he was odd, and preferred to spend the day playing dull games and drinking tea to feel grown up. Sherlock wanted adventure. He wanted to run and explore. His only reprieve from the tedious journey had been discovering a litter of puppies below deck, and even that had been taken away from him.

"We all have our burdens to bear, Sherlock." Mycroft replied. "Ours just happens to be knowing we'll never find anyone that's remotely interesting in this life. Now, if you don't want to return to the passenger's area then fine, but stay in my eyesight and no more pirate games. You'll scare the sailors." Mycroft left his brother to pout and returned to the upper deck with the captain. Sherlock waited till his brother had disappeared to slump his way to the side of the boat and stare down into the waters darkened depths.

It appeared as if some of the cargo had come loose, the barrels floating along the top of the water like corks. As Sherlock watched, a lady's parasol floated by, followed by the burned remnants of a British flag, more cargo, what might have been a door, and on top of it... "Mycroft! There's a boy!" Sherlock screamed.

His brother sighed and appeared at the stairs, clearly annoyed by another interruption from his little brother. "What are you shouting about?" The politician called back. He made it clear with his tone that these sort of disruptions were not appreciated. 

"There's a boy! A boy in the water!" That was all it took for half the crew to appear at the ship's side. The next few minutes were spent fishing the young boy out of the water and laying him carefully out of harm's way. It was after they got him aboard that it became apparent where he had come from. Through the fog, the remains of a burning ship appeared. Everyone aboard stared in horror, there couldn't possibly be more survivors in that wreckage. 

As the sailors and passengers worried together about the possibility of pirates, Sherlock crept towards the still unconscious boy. Through the blackened soot that covered him, it was obvious he had very fair hair and couldn't be more than a couple years older than Sherlock. The darker haired boy was completely intrigued when his eyes caught a twinkle of gold around the other boy's neck. Sherlock pulled the medallion out from under the boy's shirt to examine it more closely. It looked like... pirate gold. It was then that the boy began to stir, immediately struggling in fear though nothing was holding him down. "It's alright." Sherlock whispered, touching the boy's shoulder. "It's okay, you're safe now. What's your name?"

Trying to bring his rescuer into focus, the boy whimpered quietly. "John." He finally managed to get out. "John Watson."

"You're safe now, John. I promise." The boy nodded once before fainting once more. "I'll protect you, John." Sherlock continued then pulled the medallion off the boy's neck and pocketed it.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock Holmes groaned himself awake. Late morning light filtered through the cracks around his thick curtains and there was a loud pounding coming from somewhere to the left of him.

"Sherlock Holmes. Don't you dare tell me you're still asleep." Mycroft's irritated voice called through the door.

"And if I am?" The young man in bed replied. His voice was thick with sleep and he was trying vainly to recapture the dream he'd been having. It had felt... familiar, and had been much more interesting than anything his brother would have to say to him.

"We have places to be today." Mycroft began twisting the locked doorknob, angrily grumbling under his breath when it held firm.

"You have places to be today." Sherlock retorted. He rolled with a huff and buried his head under his pillow. "You told me last week I didn't have to go to that stuffy man's promotion party."

"I told you that to get you to do something for me. You've already done it, so I have no reason to keep my word.  You're going." There was a jangle of keys and then much to the young man's dismay, Sherlock's door creaked open. "Now- good God. Clean your room. No wonder the maids are afraid to come in here."

"If I were able to keep my experiments elsewhere, we wouldn't have this problem." Sherlock shot back while burrowing his way deeper in his bed covers. There was hardly anything he would willingly get out of bed before noon for, and the useless Captain Adler's promotion ceremony was certainly not on that short list.

Mycroft circled Sherlock's bed slowly and gave a derisive snort at his brother's reply. He barely tolerated Sherlock keeping his projects in his room, but it did keep the young man from engaging in much less socially acceptable and much more public activities. That was normally enough to hold the young governor's tongue. "If I were to allow you to keep them elsewhere, they'd take over the house. We'd have green slime coming out of the walls, I'm sure. Never be able to host another social gathering."

"And what a shame that would be."

"Sherlock," Mycroft sighed. "If you are not dressed and out of that bed in the next ten minutes, I will bin every one of your so called experiments."  Mycroft allowed the threat to hang in the air as he once again turned and left the room.

It took a lot of insulting and complaining, but still ten minutes later, Sherlock was stomping his way down the manor's grand main staircase. "I have experiments to attend to, Mycroft." Sherlock snapped at his waiting brother before he spotted the second man in the room. "John!" Sherlock grinned, taking in the sight of his blond friend. His hand moved on its own accord to cover his jacket pocket, where he had placed the same necklace he had taken from John so many years before. 

"Sherlock- er, Mr. Holmes." John smiled back, quick to correct himself from the sharp look Mycroft threw at him. "You're looking well." 

"As are you." Sherlock replied. There was a long stretch of silence while the two men smiled at each other before Mycroft cleared his throat and reminded them both of his presence.

"Mr. Watson was just here to drop off the gift I ordered for the new commodore." After John had been rescued from the ocean, there had been a lot of discussion about what they were to do with him. Eventually it was decided that he would be given to the town's blacksmith to be an apprentice. Over the years, John had made many attempts to leave the terrible life he'd been given. He had tried joining the military, and other times he had applied for a permit to return to England and begin studying to become a doctor. Both things he had been denied. When Sherlock had confronted his brother about his decisions, Mycroft's answer had been that John Watson's fate had been decided from the minute he had been pulled from the water. 'Meaning you like his craftsmanship too much to give up,' Had been Sherlock's response. Mycroft never gave a reply.

When John was through showing off the fancy sword, Mycroft smiled and placed it back in it's case. "This is a fine sword, Mr. Watson." John beamed at the acknowledge, "Please do pass on my compliments to your master."

John's expression fell, but he quickly caught himself and gave the governor a tight smile. "I'll make sure he gets them, sir."

Finally, their goodbyes were made and Sherlock allowed himself to be directed into the waiting carriage. He watched John making his way back to town through the small window until he couldn't see him anymore before rounding on his brother. "You know full well that John was the one who crafted the sword." 

"Yes well, it's better to keep him modest." Mycroft replied in a bored tone.

"Is it really that hard for you to treat John like a human being?" Sherlock snapped back at him.

His brother sighed and began to examine his nails. "I will treat John Watson however I please in my own home. When you marry and take up your own home, you can treat however you please as well. Which brings me to my next point of order. Irene Adler."

"Oh, don't start." For years, Mycroft had been attempting to set up his brother and the younger sister of the soon-to-be commodore, even though Sherlock had never shown the slightest romantic inclination towards the woman. 

"You and she are an acceptable, if unconventional, pair and I expect you two to interact today." 

Sherlock glowered at his brother. "You are a hateful being." He growled.

Mycroft only hummed back as he quickly lost interest in their conversation.

Meanwhile, in another part of town at the docks, there was a buzz of activity. The clear skies and strong breeze had many of the sailors aching to get back onto the water before the day was gone. The only thing that could have made any of them men break their quick paces would be the sight of a beaten up dinghy  floating towards the main dock. And that was exactly what happened.

A lone figure rode the truly pathetic floatation device. His salt and peppered hair was covered by a captains hat which, like the rest of his clothes, was tattered and dated. Still despite all, a large cheeky grin was plastered across the pirate's face.

He had barely taken two steps once on land, when an angry dock official appeared out beside him. "Oi! Where do you think you're going. I'll need your name, if you want to keep that thing tied up here." The man said with a nod at the sunken dinghy.

The pirate followed the man's gaze before looking back at him with a smile. "I do apologize." He gave the man an apologetic and sweeping bow. "Put me down as anonymous."

The official nodded at the accommodating man. "Very good. Thank you, Mr. Anony- now hold up! An actual name, sir. I need an actual name!"

The pirate captain did have a name, in fact if you were to ask him, he'd say it was a very good name. He was known as Captain Gregory Lestrade. A man wanted on every continent; with charm that had won the hearts of many fair maiden's, no matter their marital status; and an ex-crew that would be out for his blood, if they knew he was still alive. A man with that sort of rap-sheet had learned to keep his name to himself.

Lestrade pulled out a small satchel from his pocket and dropped it into the official's hand, causing it to tinkle promisingly with gold. "Make one up." He winked as he swaggered away from the man. 

While all of this was happening, up in the town's military fort, a fantastic party was underway. Everyone who was anyone was in attendance. The woman were busy showing off their new dresses and bonnets, while the men talked politics and compared swords. Sherlock was hating every minute of it. He had spent most of the ceremony avoiding the new commodore's sister, a feat that was easier said than done, especially with Mycroft continuously trying to direct Sherlock into her path.

However, shortly after the celebrations began, Sherlock was presented with the perfect chance to escape. Never one to let an opportunity pass by him, Sherlock was gone long before his brother realized what had happened. As Sherlock walked back in the direction of their mansion, his mind wandered back to the surprise visit from John that morning. Once again, his fingers slipped into his pocket where they touched the cool metal of the pirate gold. Sherlock had often wondered if he should have returned the necklace to his friend, but his fear of John's reaction over the fate of his property held him back.

Sherlock had been walking for awhile when a voice behind him spoke up."Might a lady walk with you, Mr. Holmes?" 

Sherlock turned to see Irene Adler approaching him. Her dark hair was held neatly beneath a plain white bonnet, and her matching dress had been made from the finest material London had to offer. A parasol held aloft completed the picturesque look.

"Irene." Sherlock greeted her. "You're supposed to be at the ceremony."

"So are you." She smirked. The young Holmes rolled his eyes.

"It's not my brother's ceremony." Despite his protests, Sherlock had already raised his arm for her to take.

"I won't be missed." Irene assured him, taking the proffered arm and started off down the road once more. 

Lestrade, meanwhile, was making his way towards where the naval ships were docked when a large and angry soldier stepped out of a nearby pub, followed closely by two of his friends..

"Well, well, well. _Captain_ Lestrade." The soldier's face rang no bells, but the sword in his hand made the captain pause.

"Do I know you?" He asked with a friendly smile.

"We met a while ago, in _India_." The soldier put a lot of emphasis on the last word as if it held important meaning. 

Lestrade shrugged back at him. "Gonna have to do better than that, mate."

"You slept with my wife." Lestrade's expression remained blank and the soldier sighed. "Sarah."

"Ooh! _Sarah_! Yeah, I remember her. She told me she was your sister." The soldier shook his head.

"No, Sarah's my wife."

"Oh." Lestrade frowned. "Oh, that's right! _Janette_  was your sister. How's she doing by the way?"

The soldier's face turned the colour of a beet. "I'm going to _murder_ you!" 

Bugger.

*

The posh pair had wandered aimlessly through their small town, eventually ending up beside the water's edge and Sherlock decided it was time he asked a question he'd been wondering about for several years. "Why me, Irene."

"The only other person leaving the party was Mr. Knight, and he's frightened by me." She replied, staring down the road.

Sherlock sighed. "You know what I'm talking about."

To Sherlock's irritation, Irene's playful smirk reappeared. "Why am I trying to win your heart? It's simple. My brother will do anything to see me married off, and I don't want to be paired off with any old stranger."

"But why me?" Sherlock asked again. "We hardly even like each other."

"That's not true Mr. Holmes. I've grown quite fond of you these last few years." The younger Holmes rolled his eyes. "You know," Irene smiled. "You and I could have a lot of fun together. If you let us."

Sherlock scoffed, pursing his lips. "I've heard about your _fun_ , Irene, in fact the whole town has. I assure you, I have no desire to join in."

The high class woman showed no signs of being insulted by Sherlock's words and only continued to smile. "Well I admit I'm no blacksmith, but I think I make a fair consolation prize." Sherlock whipped his head around in shock. He regretted his lapse in control as it was clearly the reaction she had been hoping for. "Come now, Sherlock, you don't think you're the only observant person in this whole town did you?" Irene released his arm and took a few steps away from him.

"Speaking of observing, just how good at it are you exactly?" Sherlock frowned. "Very." No one had ever questioned his ability to observe before. Then again, he had used his deductive skills to tear down every defence Irene had. Something which would have had any other common person sobbing in a heap, and yet she still stood tall.

"So you wouldn't, for example, miss the sight of a pirate running straight at you with a gun in his hand?"

Sherlock could only blink. "Wha-" The rest of his sentence died in Sherlock's throat when a pair of hands grabbed him.

"Sorry, lad. Mind if I borrow you?" A voice asked. 

A large group of naval soldiers led by the original three, appeared around the corner, with their muskets in hand.

"Stand back!" Lestrade shouted, pressing his gun against Sherlock's temple, "Or this man loses his head."

Sherlock struggled vainly against the pirate's grip "You should have gone for the girl. I doubt any of these men will lose much sleep if you shoot me."

Lestrade seemed to be considering this when Mycroft Holmes finally managed to push his way to the front of the still growing mass of soldiers. He quickly assessed the situation then sighed. The elder Holmes calmly met the eyes of the pirate. "Release my brother."

Lestrade nodded to the group. "Call off your men, and I will."

Mycroft chuckled. "You're trapped in a town swarming with naval guards determined to hunt you down. How can you possibly expect to escape?"

Lestrade beamed back the governor. "I'm clever." He replied. Two of the guards made menacing steps towards the pirate, and Lestrade saw his chance. "Catch!" He shouted and shoved Sherlock forwards into the path of the men. All three were sent sprawling off the side of the dock into the water. The captain took the distraction to dart down a deserted alleyway with several guards hot on his heels. In the midst of the commotion, no one noticed an unnatural ripple shoot across the water.

*

It had been a mad dash through the small town. Everywhere Lestrade turned there seemed to be soldiers He had finally managed to give them the slip when he fell through the unlocked door of the town's blacksmith. Having thought he had escaped scot-free, Lestrade had just been rewarding himself with a new sword from the shop's extensive collection when the door opened. 

John Watson looked worried. There had been gunfire in the streets, and someone had mentioned Sherlock had been involved. John grabbed the newest sword he had been engraving when, he heard someone trip and swear. "Harry?" John hadn't been expecting the old drunk back from the pub so soon. When no reply came, John's hand tightened on the sword. "Who's there?" 

Lestrade stepped out from behind a pillar, his own sword held tightly in his hand.  John's expression darkened, his whole posture changing as if preparing for a fight. "Are you him then? The pirate?"

Lestrade looked towards his only escape route which John was inconveniently blocking. "Reckon I am, yeah."

"You threatened Mr. Holmes."

The pirate took a few steps towards him, pausing when John lifted his weapon. "News travels fast."

"Small town."

"Well then I'm sure you know I'm sort of in a hurry to get out of here. If you'd be so kind and move, I'll be on my way." John stood his ground. In any other situation Lestrade would have admired the boy's determination. Unfortunately for John, Lestrade had no time for heroics. "Move, or I'll make you move."

"No."  

"Why not?" 

"You threatened Mr. Holmes."

Lestrade frowned, confusion and annoyance spreading over his face. "The boy? What does he matter to you?"

John glared, his weapon never wavering from the man. "Sherlock Holmes has done more for me than you'll ever understand, and I won't let anyone who tries to hurt him get away unpunished."

Lestrade narrowed his eyes at John. In his years as a career pirate he had learned there were only two reasons a person would stand up to a pirate. "Oh. I see." John frowned in confusion his opponent's sudden grin. "Defend the boy's honour on someone else's time. I have a boat to catch." Lestrade started towards John, but the young man was ready for him.

There was a clash of metal when their swords met, Lestrade was pushed backwards by the force of it. He stumbled, but quickly recovered. He studied the boy with interest, something about him tugged at his memories. "Not bad." He smirked.

"What do you think I do all day with these swords" John replied, keeping his own held high.

"I don't know," The pirate shrugged, "Polish them, mainly." John gave him a bemused look and Lestrade to his momentary distraction to charge towards him, but again John was ready. Back and forth the fight continued. Each time one man thought he had the upper hand, the other would turn around and do something unexpected. Finally when they were both filthy and exhausted, John darted from view.

Lestrade made to follow after him, frowning when he couldn't see him. "Oh come on. Hiding is just plain cheating."

"I call it strategy." Lestrade turned towards the sound of John's voice, and met the hilt of the boy's sword. The pirate dropped like a sack of potatoes.

John bent down to check he was still alive when the doors to his shop banged open. Having been attracted by the sounds of a fight, the town's soldiers had finally arrived at the Blacksmith's. They stood dumbly in the entrance, staring between the young swordsmith  and the unconscious pirate until the governor, flanked by the new commodore arrived in the doorway.

Mycroft stepped towards Lestrade, giving the unconscious captain a cold smirk. "It seems our friend, the pirate wasn't as _clever_ as he thought. Take him away."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm still not sure about who I chose to be Barbossa, but for now he was the most fitting even if he's not technically canon on Sherlock. Leave your thoughts in the comments and as always,
> 
> Enjoy!

After Sherlock had pulled himself back out of the water, the only person waiting for him was Irene. She smirked down at the sopping boy before conjuring up a carriage to take him home.

Now Sherlock was toweled off and tucked up in his bed with his nose stuck in one of his notebooks. The boy's mind wasn't really focused on his words, his mind continuously wandering back to the unexpected events of that afternoon. Mycroft had informed Sherlock after he returned that it had been John who had stopped the pirate in the end. Sherlock sat up and grabbed at his jacket. He pulled the golden necklace out of the pocket he had left in when there was a knock at his door. 

"Oo oo," A quiet voice called through to him, "Are you decent, Sherlock?" For the second time that day, Sherlock's thoughts about John were interrupted by a member of the household. At least this time, it was someone he actually liked. 

Sherlock closed the necklace in his book and tossed it onto his desk before nodding at the door. "Yes, Mrs. Hudson, come in." 

The manor's housekeeper and self-appointed mother of the two Holmes boys, entered the room with a tea tray clutched in her hands. She clucked her tongue at the sight of Sherlock. "You should be in bed, young man. After the trying day you've had, you've certainly deserve it." 

Sherlock smirked and climbed his way back into the bed as instructed. "Yes well, I admit that Irene Adler's company leaves something to desire, I'd hardly call it trying."

"I meant you being attacked by that pirate and you know it." The elderly woman chuckled. Sherlock smiled back, Mrs. Hudson could tell from her ward's face that though he brushed it off as a joke, he really did put dealing with Irene Adler above being mugged by a pirate as a more trying experience. "So that was Miss Adler's buggy I saw today then. Is that brother of yours still attempting to pair you two together?" Sherlock's lack of reply told Mrs. Hudson everything she needed to know. "I suppose that Miss Adler does have her charms."

Sherlock sighed and accepted the tea offered to him. "Yes. She is a fine, intelligent woman. I should feel honoured that she wishes to marry me." There was no real expression in his voice. It was as if the man was finally forcing himself to accept what his brother was demanding of him.

It broke the older woman's heart to see her boy giving up his fight against his brother's will. She bit her lip, knowing it was out of line for her to speak up, but if she didn't then who would?"Yes, Miss Adler is all those things but if you ask me, that John Watson. He's just as fine and intelligent as her, if not more." Mrs Hudson replied while she puttered around tidying Sherlock's bedroom. 

The unexpected statement caused Sherlock to look up from his drink and give his housekeeper an assessing look. "What are you suggesting?"

The housekeeper only smiled back at him. "There are all sorts in this world, Sherlock. A person shouldn't settle just because it's what's expected of them." Was all she said before leaving Sherlock to his thoughts with a wink and a knowing smile. 

Sherlock didn't think he could take much more of this. Irene Adler was one thing, but Mrs Hudson too? Sherlock let out a quiet chuckle and grabbed his notebook. When he did so, John's necklace fell out onto his bed. Catching it by the chain, Sherlock raised the necklace up to eyelevel. It really was the most interesting little piece of gold. The pattern was incredibly intricate, the edges spanning out like a snowflake and the carved skull that made up the centre of the medallion had an eerie aspect to it that spoke of a far away world of adventure.

Sherlock ran his finger over the cool metal and his candle flickered. Sherlock looked over at the whick. Surely that had just been a coincidence. Sherlock slowly ran his finger over the medallion again and the light imitated the motion. Sherlock watched in amazement when he covered the necklace, completely putting out the fire. That was when the noises reached his ears.

Loud blasts drew Sherlock to his window. Outside, he could see a darkened ship floating in the bay, cannons firing towards the village. The youngest Holmes was halfway down the hallway leading towards the manor's entrance when a pair of thin arms blocked his path. "No, Sherlock, please." Mrs. Hudson pleaded, holding him in place with her worried tone.

"John's out there!"

"Please," She said again, "It's too dangerous." While Sherlock struggled between his choosing to listen to Mrs. Hudson or to risk all for John, one of the manor's footmen darted into the hallway.

"Sir! They're coming towards the house!"

Mrs. Hudson's hand tightened on the young man's arm. "Oh Sherlock. They're coming for you."

Sherlock frowned back at her. As the closest living relation to the governor, the threat of being taken for ransom was one he'd always been aware of, but until then it had always just been a distant and fantastical risk. Sherlock untangled himself from the elderly woman's wiry grip then closed his own hands around her arms. "They don't know about you. Find somewhere to hide, then first chance you get run to the fort and tell them what's happened." He leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to his housekeepers forehead before darting off in the opposite direction, just as the bang of a pistol announced the pirates' arrival.

Sherlock found his way into his brother's private study. The room was mostly bare beyond a desk, a wardrobe, and a few plush chairs. It was a dull room and anyone looking for anything of importance would be hard-pressed to find it there. Which was exactly what the Governor wanted people to think.

Sherlock ducked into the wardrobe. He could hear the pirate wreaking havoc through the rest of the house and he could do nothing but hope they didn't find his housekeeper and wait out the unwanted visit. His chances of going unnoticed became very bleak when the door to the study slammed open. Sherlock didn't move, didn't even breath while he watched through a crack in his hiding place's door as two shadowy figures  enter the room. 

"I'm telling you, he didn't even go this way." A man's nasally voice whined. 

"And I'm telling you, he doesn't matter." His companion, female this time replied. "Can't you sense it? The gold's in here." 

Sherlock looked down at his hand where John's necklace was still tightly held in it. He slid it into his house coat pocket a single second before the wardrobe's front was darkened by a shadow. 

When the door was flung open, Sherlock uttered the first thing that came to his mind. "Parlay."

It seemed to have been the right thing to utter since both the pirates froze in confusion. "What did you just say?" Now that there was no door between them, the pair were not at all as terrifying as Sherlock had pictured. The female was clearly the leader and barely came up past Sherlock's chest. She had dark skin and dark curly hair that was held out of her face by a grey bandana. The second pirate was scruffy faced with unkempt, greasy hair that was as black as Sherlock's own curls.

The pirates' questions would have to wait because Sherlock had his own that needed answers. "You mentioned gold. What gold? There isn't any in this house. The governor's too paranoid to keep it here." Sherlock stated, he saw disappointment flash across the man's face, but the woman simply continued to smirk.

"We're just looking for a single coin. A pirate's piece." So it was John's medallion they were after. Sherlock did his best to keep his expression blank, but something must have flicked through his eyes because the woman's smirk became more predatorial. "You know what we're talking about." She pulled out a sword and aimed it directly at Sherlock's throat. "Tell us where to find it, or I'll cut open that pretty little neck of yours, savvy?"

Sherlock gave the weapon an unimpressed look then turned his head towards the study's window. Through it, he could still see the ship firing its cannons. "You'd destroy an entire settlement for a single piece of gold? Must be valuable." 

The female pirate let out a disgusted noise. She stared at Sherlock as if he'd grown a second head. "Really? Two pirates threaten you and that's your only response? What sort of freak are you?"

"The sort who knows you're not going to hurt me." Sherlock replied, turning his head back to give the two pirates his full attention. 

"Oh yeah?"  

"Yes. For one, I'm the only one who knows where you can find that precious piece of gold and for another, I did just enact the right of parlay."

The second pirate scoffed. "So?"

Sherlock rolled his eyes, feeling his intelligence drop just by being in the pair's presence. "Do tell me your captain isn't as slow as you two. I invoked the use of parlay. Set down by the pirates, Morgan and Bartholomew, giving me the right to be brought _unharmed_  before the captain to negotiate-"

"I know the code, freak." The girl cut across.  

"Then why are we still standing here?"

*

Outside the manor, the town was in chaos. The pirates chased after townspeople, pillaged any building they saw, leaving some on fire. They plundered homes and looted stores. And right in the middle of it, John. For a single moment, the two men's eyes connected and then Sherlock was pushed forward and out of sight. The young aristocrat was lead to a waiting lifeboat and seated between the two pirates who had found him. The trip to their ship was a short one.

It wasn't long until Sherlock was pushed in front of a grandly dressed man wearing a captain's hat who sneered past Sherlock at his crewmembers. "Did I stutter when I said no prisoners?"

"Not our fault, sir." The man glared at dark skinned woman who stumbled to explain herself. "Freak here invoked the right of Parlay."

"Oh, did he now?" The captain snapped his blue eyes towards Sherlock who stared back, refusing to be intimidated or fooled by the man's impassive expression. "You wanted to speak to the captain? Captain Gregson at your service." The captain grinned as he stepped towards Sherlock. He stood several inches taller than the young man, forcing Sherlock to look up. "And what is exactly you want to talk to me about?"

Sherlock knew the entirety of the crew on-board was watching him with interest. They were hoping to scare him into backing down, but Sherlock had been raised with a brother who used the same tactic their whole lives. He refused to be scared away.

"I've come to tell you to leave this port and never return."

There was a chorus of laughter lead by the captain. When he was through, he eyed Sherlock with a smirk. "I'm a captain, boy. I don't take orders and I especially don't give anything without getting something in return. So, boy. If you really want to save your little village, what can you offer me?"

Sherlock bit his lip as he revealed his only bargaining chip. The gold flashed in the light of the cannon fires as Sherlock raised it up. "Take it and leave." 

Gregson's eyes followed every movement of the medallion. After a moment of contemplative silence, the pirate chuckled again. "And who says I want that little trinket hmm?"

"They do." Sherlock nodded to the pirates that had brought him.

The captain glared before giving Sherlock a pleasant smile. "Fair enough." Gregson looked Sherlock over with a curious glint in his bright eyes. "What's your name?"

The question took Sherlock by surprise. And made him uneasy. If he admitted he was the related to the governor, it would be almost certain that they would use him for ransom, and wouldn't his brother just love that? He probably wouldn't even pay.

The captain looked like he was on the verge of repeating his question when Sherlock made up his mind. "Watson. Sherlock Watson." He glanced at the necklace in his hand as silence fell over the deck.

"Well then, Mr. Watson." The captain smiled. "Hand over the gold, and I give you my word that we will leave your town and never return."

It was then that Sherlock realized how dire his situation was. It was likely that after he gave up the medallion, Sherlock would be killed but if it meant John and everyone else would be saved then the choice was already made.

The second Gregson's hand closed around it, he turned his attention back on the woman responsible for Sherlock's presence. "Take our guest below deck, Donovan, and see to it that he's comfortable. The rest of you prepare to set sail."

Sherlock's eyes grew wide. "This wasn't apart of our deal." No one had said anything about killing him. Couldn't they just let him free?

"I think you'll find, Mr. Watson, that this wasn't not apart of our deal." Gregson grinned an evil smile at the boy he had been waiting so long for. "Welcome aboard the Yard, Mr. _Watson_."

As the pirate named Sally led him down below, Sherlock couldn't stop the horrific realization that somehow he had made a terrible mistake.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hurray updates

The world buzzed slowly back into focus for John the morning following the raid. The young blacksmith was lying flat on his back on a dusty street. People ran around him, some were carrying injured friends while others were attempting to put out a burning home. John sat up and pressed his hand to his head. He could feel a large bump from where a pirate had hit him. John knew he it was his obligation to help the others who were trying to save their town, but there was only one thing John could focus on. The pirates had taken Sherlock. As quick as he could, John had found his way up to the military fort where Governor Holmes and the others were discussing the events of last night.  A large map was spread out between them and no one looked up when John approached, at least not until he demanded to know what was happening.

The newly appointed Commodore Adler kept his eyes on the map while he addressed the young blacksmith. "You have no reason to be here, Mr. Watson. Go home." Commodore James Adler bore a striking resemblance to his younger sister. They had the same dark hair and slender features, but unlike his sister, Commodore Adler held no kindness or love for those of lower status. 

John stubbornly ignored the order from the commodore and instead turned his attention to the second upperclassmen who stood by, quietly observing the interaction. "Those pirates took Sherlock." He stated to the Governor.  

Mycroft met John's gaze and held it steady. "As we are well aware." His cold gaze was uncaring, Sherlock had always said his brother didn't care, but John never believed him until then. John knew now just how different the two siblings were. While Sherlock's face could hide nothing from John, Mycroft's expression gave nothing away. Perhaps he really was made of ice as the townspeople claimed. 

"Do you plan on tracking? Saving him?" John asked. He looked around at the gathered soldiers for a sympathetic face, but there wasn't one to be found. He would always be just a blacksmith to these men. The orphan boy who washed up on a door. Mycroft opened his mouth to reply, but it was Adler who spoke first. 

"We do have a plan but please, Mr Watson, tell us your ideas. What sailing tactics would you use? What direction should we sail? Do you have a heading for us to follow?" John's mouth was shut tight. He glared at the man who didn't even bother to look up at the man. He knew what this was, just as Adler knew John couldn't answer his questions. "No?" The Commodore could smell victory closing in, his lips curled into a cruel smile. "Perhaps that is because you aren't a ship captain. Go home."

John fell silent. His cheeks burned with humiliation as he stood there, listening to the snickers from the surrounding soldiers. "The pirate." He said quietly. "What about the pirate?" John asked. "Lestrade. It can't have been a coincidence that he showed up and the very same night the port is raided." A flicker of interest spread through the group, but Adler was quick to stamp it out before the thought took root in his men's mind. 

"It can and it was." Adler passed some sheets to an officer, it looked as if they were preparing to leave soon. John needed to act fast if he ever wanted to make them see reason and rationality. "The pirates left Lestrade in his cell, ergo, they weren't here for him." The commodore continued. From that perspective, it did make sense, John agreed. That didn't mean the pirate was completely useless. 

"Have you at least spoken to him?" John wasn't going to give up until some real action was taken. The ship had too much of a lead on them, soon Sherlock would be lost to them forever. "Lestrade mights still know something, maybe he recognized the ship." If the pirate was their only option, then so be it. John would risk the world for Sherlock. Even if these men were too afraid to try. 

The commodore sighed. "No," His tone bored. "Lestrade is loyal to no one but himself. Trusting him would be a mistake I don't intend to make. Now unless you have anything constructive to add, go."

John could only stare at the bullheaded leader. "But he could still know something!" It was then that the Commodore's temper flared. He slammed his hands down onto the table, and looked up at John with a glare so dark, Mycroft wasted no time to place himself in-between the two men.

"Mr Watson, I suggest you return to the town before Commodore Adler allows you to ask Lestrade any question you want, as his new cellmate." He kept his tone civil, but John knew his words left no room for argument or negotiation. Giving his lips an angry lick, John bowed stiffly to the gathered men then turned and marched back towards the burning village.

*

The town was in a desolate state. With all the soldiers and villagers busy with keeping the town they could from crumbling, John had no problem with sneaking into the jail. The building was deserted of all soldiers, only a large Irish Setter, handsome if dirty, was there to greet the blacksmith in his descent to the cells. John bent to pat the dog on his head, but the dog immediately took off past the row of cells. The jangle of keys echoing in his wake.

A gaping hole was the first thing John noticed when he reached the base of the cells. At first, John's heart sank. His only chance of ever finding Sherlock had escaped in the night. Now he would never know what happened to his friend, but as John's eyes adjusted to the dark interior, he saw the outline of the pirate he sought stretched out in the dirt of his cell.

"Wake up." Lestrade looked just as he had left him, though it seemed the escape of all the other prisoners had sapped him of some of his proud exterior since he showed showed no sign of movement even when prompted, but the pirate did manage to grumble out a quiet, 'What for?' Which was good enough for John. "I have questions." He replied. John stepped closer to the cell. He was determined to find out if his time with Sherlock had rubbed off at all. If he was right about Lestrade, then John  would have properly deduced and observed just like Sherlock had always been trying to teach him how to do.

At his request, Lestrade let out an undignified snort. He sat up in the cell and surveyed John through the bars. "By all means, boy, ask your questions. Doesn't mean I'll answer any." John had been friends with Sherlock Holmes, king of stubborn behaviour,  for too long to allow that sort of response to deter him.

He pulled himself up to his full height and narrowed his eyes. "The ship that attacked last night, do you know it?" He asked, keeping his voice as  commanding as he could. John always thought he would make a very good soldier. When he was younger, he used to daydream about commanding his own fleet and being called a captain. That was until reality caught up to him and squashed such childish fantasies. 

Lestrade stared back at him, eyes twinkling in the light of the torches. "And what would a blacksmith want with that information? Looking for a career change?" John grit his teeth and the pirate's smirk grew. He struck hit a nerve. "They took something." John mumbled back. He didn't want to give the pirate any more fire to use against him but the knowing look he gave the blacksmith made him fear he already had.

"Did they?" Lestrade chuckled. He laid back in the dirt and shut his eyes. "Then you all have nothing to fear, boy. I give you my solemn oath as a pirate, if they found what they came for, the pirates won't be returning."

It seemed like they weren't talking   about the same things. Why would aa group of unknown pirates take Sherlock and not demand a ransom? He hadn't made that many enemies. Still, one bit of the pirates statement stuck out to John. "So you do know of them." He smiled. John knew it couldn't have been a coincidence. The pirate was in on it. Maybe he had been set up, it didn't matter to John. If that was the case, then John's bargain for Lestrade's freedom would be too irresistible. Pirates loved revenge. 

Lestrade nodded, but kept his eyes closed. "Aye, I know of them. Thought everyone did." The pirate offered nothing more, but John remained outside his cell. He stared down at him in frustration, his anger and desperation mounting. When Lestrade opened his eyes again, John's shoulders were slumped and his head was bent against the bars.

John was well aware that he had the pirates full attention, but he refused to look up. "They took Sherlock." John mumbled. His whisper was near silent but it was so quiet in the empty jail, Lestrade heard every word.

An all too knowing smile curled onto Lestrade's tanned face. "So they took your special boy friend and now you want information on the ship so you can chase after them, save the boy and win his heart." John didn't answer. Why would he when Lestrade clearly knew everything already. "What's your name?" Came the pirate's next question, his eyes still twinkling as if he knew something that John didn't. From what John had gathered about the mysterious man, it was completely possible.

There was no reason to lie about something like his name, so he simply replied with, 'John Watson.' Lestrade's ears perked up. "Watson?" The pirate studied him in silence, the curious expression increasing in his eyes. "Good name." He muttered and rose to his feet. He moved to stand in front of the boy. "Alright Watson, I've changed my mind. I'll tell you everything you need to know about that ship, in fact I'll even offer myself as a guide to where they'll make port."

John raised an eyebrow at the sudden change of heart. He was no fool, it was entirely too suspicious but he had gotten what he wanted and more from the pirate, so John smiled and clapped his hands together. "Great." He replied though his jovial mood was short-lived, when Lestrade raised a hand to stop his smile. 

" _If_ ," John sighed. There it was, the if he had been waiting for. John had spent enough time with sailors to know no favour was set without a fee. It also would explain why Lestrade was suddenly so willing to help, though it still struck him odd that the pirate waited until he heard his name to agree. Still, whatever the price, John was willing to pay. Someone had to find Sherlock before it was too late. "If," Lestrade continued, "You can catch that damn dog and get me out of here." Oh. John almost smirked. That wasn't what he had been expecting, but if that was all it would take then he knew how to simplify it for both of them. 

"Don't need the dog." He said with a shrug. John moved away from the cell, leaving Lestrade alone with his confusion.  Lestrade leaned himself against the bar, watching as John approached the rubble from where a cannon had hit the jail.

"Then how exactly do you plan on getting me out?"  Lestrade asked, completely puzzled by the boy's actions. It seemed much easier to hunt down the dog and take the keys to him. 

"I was apart of the crew that built these cells."John replied. He continued to rummage around the remains in search of something strong. Over his shoulder, John continued his explanation."With the right amount of leverage,the doors should spring free. Ah, here we go." John returned to Lestrade's cell with a large and sturdy plank of wood."Stand back." He warned the pirate. John placed the plank at the base of the cell's door and then threw all of his weight onto it. With a loud clang, the door sprang open and a grinning Lestrade stepped through to clap John on his shoulder. "We best get out of here. Someone might have hear that."

Lestrade agreed with a nod. "All the better. It's about time I got what I came to this town for." Without wasting time explaining what he meant, Lestrade located his weapons belt then headed for the exit with John trailing nervously behind him.

*

Getting through the town undetected was just as easy as it was the first time. Lestrade led them down towards the docks, but while the city had been near empty, the beach was practically teeming with soldiers. They took shelter beneath a dock from where they could easily spy on the beach without being noticed. John could see Commodore Adler aboard a nearby ship, and grimaced. There was no way they could do anything with these soldiers so close, surely Lestrade realized this. "Your plan isn't to.. go down in blazing glory is it? Because-"

"I have no plans on dying today, mate." Lestrade replied. His eyes roved from ship to ship, constantly flicking back to the one the Commodore stood on. It was almost as if he was searching for something that John could see. 

"Then how-"

Lestrade waved an impatient hand for John to be quiet. "You remember how I trusted you with the whole leverage thing? Trust me now." John didn't argue again, but he kept a weary eye on the back of Lestrade. He wasn't an idiot, he couldn't give the pirate too much trust or he was sure he would live to regret it. "We're going to take a ship." Lestrade said.

The pirate's eyes finally settled onto the ship the Commodore stood aboard. John's heart sank. It was said to be the fastest ship in the Carribean, and the most protected. No rival had ever gotten close to taking it, not even fleet's had managed it. How could Lestrade expect the two of them to succeed? "We'll be cut to pieces."

"Not if we do it my way." For the first time since they had arrived on the beach, Lestrade turned to John. His face broke into the cheeky smile John was quickly becoming familiar with then he winked. "How do you feel about getting a bit wet?"

*

Walking at the bottom of the ocean was a strange experience to say the least. John's arms ached with the effort it took to keep the canoe supplying their air in place above their heads.  In theory, Lestrade's plan was a simple, if completely insane, one. So many thing could go wrong once they enacted it, but that was if they even made it to their destination. They were barely past the anchored ships and already John was having difficulty holding their air supply. It would be all to easy for him to slip and give themselves away, or drown beneath the boats. Thoughts of Sherlock, alone and frightened on a ship full of savage pirates, hardened John's resolve and he trudged on. He wouldn't let go. Not if it meant destroying Sherlock's only chance of escape. In less time than expected, the two fugitives arrived aboard their first stop. It was a scouting vessel, most likely on the same mission they were on, but as Lestrade had pointed out during their trek to it, the ship would be too slow to catch up to a ship like the Yard. Aboard the ship, there was only a small crew of six, whose leader was easy to pick out. Lestrade jumped down in front of the smartly dressed commander, his gun in hand."Alright boys, hands up, we're taking over this ship."

The order caused a wave of laughter to pass through the gathered men. "What? You two against the six of us? You don't stand a chance." It was a bluff of course. The scouting ship had been supplied with only the minimal, defences all of which Lestrade and John had already disabled. Lestrade was only a feet away from the officer, he raised his weapon up to the man's head and released the safety. 

"Perhaps I didn't make myself clear."Lestrade growled, his voice gruff with menace. He moved closer to the man until his gun was pressed against his forehead. "Get off the ship."

The officer paled. His eyes had crossed in an effort to keep the gun in his sight."Everyone off the ship." He stuttered. Soon, only the pair remained aboard and the plan had become a waiting game. John couldn't believe how well it was all working. They found a comfortable place to hide and before long, the fleet's lead ship was almost upon them, coming to reclaim their property. Like fools the entirety of the skeleton crew on the second vessel boarded the stolen one. It was a simple matter of timing for the pair to jump over to the empty boat and set sail. By the time the crew even thought to react, Lestrade and John were too far away to catch. The pirate turned and saluted the Commodore, and John knew his fate had been sealed.  

Not until Port Royal was a speck in the distance did John let himself relax, but the wind was with them and the sea was calm during their sail. John didn't know what their heading was or why he continued to trust the pirate who's scheming was so dangerously uncertain. John found Lestrade up at the helm. He seemed to be sailing by memory with no headings to guide the way."So I've got to ask, why are you helping me? It's not out of the goodness of your heart, I know that much, so why?" 

Lestrade kept his eyes on the horizon, though they grew contemplative. "I suppose I'm repaying a debt." It was an unusual response, he owed John nothing. Lestrade had offered to take him to Sherlock, there was no debt to be repaid. In fact, it was John who had a debt to be repaid. "I knew a girl once by the name of Watson, like you. Her name was Harriet, we called her Harry." 

John's eyes grew wide. "Harriet? My sister Harry?" It couldn't be true. How could Lestrade know his sister? John himself hadn't even heard from her over ten years.

"You look a lot like her, you know? Though she was much easier on the eyes than you'll ever be." Lestrade continued, "She was a good lady, good pirate." "Pirate?" Lestrade nodded. "One of the best." He looked over at John, lips turned down in a frown. "You didn't know?" 

"That she was a pirate? No. I haven't seen her since we were children. She ran away from the orphanage as soon as she was old enough to board a boat. Harry only contacted me once to send me some gold. A necklace." 

"Do you still have it?" Lestrade asked. He leaned against the steering wheel and watched John with intruige.

John shook his head in reply. "No. No, it was lost at sea a long time ago." A flicker of something resembling disappointment danced across Lestrade's face, John pressed on without acknowledging it. "So you're helping me because you knew my sister?" 

"She saved my arse more times than I can count. I figured helping you save your boy might repay some small part of that debt." 

John's cheeks heated. He dropped his gaze to the deck below his feet and tried to think of a way to steer the conversation out of such dangerous territory. "He's not.. my boy." 

"Yeah, and I'm the king of England." Lestrade rolled his eyes. He stood back up and returned his focus to sailing the stolen vessel. They were making good time, he expected to reach their destination in a days ride. "Finding love in this world is no easy task, John, believe me. If you care about this lad, then tell him before you can't."

John continued to stare at the ground. He had spent so long being told that what he felt for wasn't right, that he had begun to believe it. Most people didn't even seem to notice, and that included his ever observant friend. John feared that admitting his feelings would lose him his friend or worse, get him strung up by the neck. "Doesn't it bother you? My.. caring about another man?"

Lestrade grinned wickedly. "You ever spent time with a sailing crew?" He asked.

John shook his head. "Not since I was young." Since arriving in Port Royal, his life was solely focused on his craft. The one chosen for him by people who had no impact in his life.

"Well trust me," Lestrade replied, "Two men with feelings for each other are not the most peculiar things you're going to see. Not where we're heading." Which left the question of where they were heading. It didn't seem as if Lestrade planned on telling him anymore than what he had, so John nodded and took his leave back to his station. He would find out soon enough, he supposed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a shocking turn of events, this story wasn't abandoned

The island of Tortuga was a famed place. Known for drawing the worst of the worst, honest sailors were warned to avoid its shores or risk everything they had, including their lives. John Watson thought of the stories he had heard of the Tortuga as he trudged down the streets of its largest town. Beside him, Captain Lestrade confidently swaggered, showing no sign of concern about where they were. Why they were on the island at all was a mystery to John. The pair had been through two alehouses and one seemingly harmless manor which, to John’s embarrassment, had turned out to be a very unashamed brothel. Everywhere John looked, people were engaging in acts that would have even the most English of men blushing. John did his best to keep his eyes to himself but with every passing moment, his frustration grew at Lestrade’s lack of communication. "You know, if you told me why we're here, I could help." There was no sign of the ship that had taken Sherlock. If the pirate was thinking he could pull a fast one on John, he was going to be disappointed. There was no way in hell John was going to let Lestrade out of his sight, especially after admitting to have known John’s sister.

Lestrade glanced at John and shrugged, "We'll know it when we see it” Was his reply, which did nothing to reassure. Lestrade led John towards a rowdy pub, then around past it to a barn. The younger man sighed. Nothing this pirate did made sense to him. Perhaps it would be best if John cut his ties before Lestrade got them both killed, and yet John had nowhere else to go. Returning to Port Royal would be a death sentence. Joining a crew seemed unlikely too. With resignation, John realized his trust in the strange pirate was all he had.  

Once inside the barn, Lestrade lead them through to the back where a pig pen was kept. John was on the verge of asking again what it was they were looking for when it became very obvious. A man, only a few years older than John was passed out among the pigs. The smell of alcohol mixed with the stench of the pen, creating the foulest of odours. John wrinkled his nose, “Please tell me _he_ is not who we’re looking for.”

“I won’t tell you but it won’t make it any less true.” Lestrade replied with a grin. He grabbed a nearby water bucket and dumped its contents over the man, who woke gasping with a knife in his hand.

When he saw who it was, the man gave an annoyed grunt but stowed the knife. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to wake a man like that?” The man grumbled. Despite his protestation, the man allowed Lestrade to pull him to his feet. There was something oddly familiar about him, but John couldn’t put his finger on it. Lestrade didn’t seem at all put off by the man’s, who he named as Dimmock, bad mood. He didn’t even seem to mind the stench as he led John and the stranger back to the pub, whispering of important business.

*

Sherlock sat at a table filled with delicacies from all around the world. On the other side of the vast table, Captain Gregson sat watching Sherlock. It was late evening on the ship. Sherlock had been invited to dine with the Captain, a hospitality that struck Sherlock as suspicious. What could he possibly expect from treating Sherlock so kindly? "You must not be used to such fine dining, being a servant in another man's home." Sherlock didn't reply, a sense of dread began to fill him. Was this a test? Did the Captain suspect Sherlock of lying to him? Sherlock hadn't eaten since the promotion ceremony the day before and even with his fears, he couldn't stop himself from eyeing all the different dishes in front of him. Gregson pushed a plate of chicken towards Sherlock and gestured to it. "Go on. Dig in."

As a rule, Sherlock never let himself be ordered into something if he had any other choice, but the food looked so tempting. Sherlock glared, wanting more than anything to have a snappy remark that would put the Captain in his place. Instead all that came from Sherlock was a loud growl, originating from his stomach. Sherlock glared at the smirk on the Captain’s face and grabbed for a fork. There was no point, he supposed, in pretending he wasn’t hungry. The faster he ate, the faster he could leave. From the first bite, Sherlock knew the meat had been expertly made. The chicken was juicy and fell off the bone with little effort. Next a glass of wine was pushed in front of him, followed by fruits and small cakes. All the while, Gregson did nothing but watch him eat. Sherlock stared back at him, the pirate was clearly hungry. He eyed every morsel Sherlock swallowed but still made no move for it himself. Why would he hold himself back when there was more than enough for both? Unless...

Sherlock’s fork dropped to his plate with a clatter. _Of course_. "How much was poisoned?" He asked and begun to rise from his chair, panic swiftly setting in. This couldn't be how Sherlock died. Not after everything he had done to stay alive. Not where he couldn’t say goodbye to John. To Sherlock’s surprise and disgust, Gregson began to laugh.

The pirate shook his head and pushed the food closer to Sherlock. "You fear evil where there is none. I did not poison your food. Why would I?" The pirate captain stood, arms at his side and looked Sherlock up and down. "You're still valuable to me, Mr Watson. I don't make a habit of killing those who are valuable to me.” He poured Sherlock a new glass of wine and nodded again for him to sit, but Sherlock remained standing.  

"What use am I to you?" Sherlock snarled. He had lied to protect his brother, they couldn't know who he was and they were too far away for them to make a feasible attempt at a ransom anyway. He was only a servant to these people. Servants didn't get this sort of treatment, not without some sort of price. "The gold is yours. I returned it, why keep me prisoner?" Sherlock frowned watching the pirate observe him. He was sick of games. If Gregson wanted to keep his prisoner without a fight, it was time Sherlock got some answers.

Reading his mind, Gregson pulled John's medallion out of his pocket and dangled it between them. "You don't know what this is do you?"

"A gaudy necklace?" Sherlock retorted, still standing. 

"This is pirate's gold. Cursed by the heathen gods and taken by Cortéz himself.” The pirate smirked at Sherlock, near humourlessly. “He left the treasure hidden in his secret hideaway for a hundred years undisturbed." The eyes of the trinket's gold reflected the candlelight's fire making them seem almost as if they were watching Sherlock. "When we found the trove, oh Sherlock, how it surpassed all of our wildest dreams. We took it. We took all of it, for ourselves."

Sherlock kept his face trained into a look of disdain. He didn't believe in ghost stories. If the foolish old man was trying to scare him, would have to do better than that. Sherlock didn't fear any gods either. He wasn’t on good terms with the one those of his town worshipped, and he wasn't about to start cowering to please another one. Gregson stared down at the chain, eyes far away. "When I first learned of the curse, I didn't believe it. Child's stories to keep them from stealing, I said. We took the treasure and we sailed away. Never once looking back. That was until things began to change." He looked up at Sherlock. No longer was the Captain’s face a smug expression of power, but that of a tired old man, one who had seen too many years. "The curse took its toll. Life holds no meaning for us anymore. We cannot eat, cannot feel. Death is welcomed, but never comes. The only way to end our suffering, Sherlock, is to appease the gods we angered and return what's theirs. That, along with the blood offering of all those who stole from them."

With every word spoken, pieces began to fall into place for Sherlock but he still didn't understand why he was needed. He hadn't stolen any gold, technically. Not like the pirates had. "You're insane." Sherlock gasped out. He had known his situation was dire, and it seemed only to be getting worse as the pirate captain stood there. His smug smile had returned and the growing sense of fear in Sherlock only increased.

"Aye, I'm that too.” Gregson pocketed the necklace and picked up a bowl of apples. The Captain made his way towards Sherlock, and held out the bowl. “You're my only hope to return to humanity, Mr. Watson. Keep eating. You’ll need your strength."

Sherlock was sick of this. The pirate had clearly lost his mind and Sherlock needed to escape. In desperation, he hit the bowl and sent its contents flying. While Gregson was distracted, Sherlock darted for the door, and stumbled onto the main deck. Sherlock intended on grabbing the first life raft he found and putting as much distance between the ship and him as he could. Hell, he’d _swim_ if it meant escaping the psychotic pirates. He was halfway across the deck when a pirate approached and sent Sherlock reeling backwards in shock. Bathed in moonlight, the pirate was nothing more than a skeleton. A walking skeleton with dead eyes that watched Sherlock's every move.

"Not possible." Sherlock breathed. All around him, men and women neared him, their ragged clothes hanging off their ghastly forms.  Sherlock backed away, still not believing his eyes. They had to be the crew of the ship, Sherlock could even recognize some, but it had to be a trick. An illusion done to scare him.  Sherlock was trying hard to convince himself when a heavy hand fell onto his shoulder. Sherlock cried out and spun, expecting to see another of the skeletons. What he saw was Gregson, grinning in the shadows. "You see what we've become? Monsters that live in the moonlight." Sherlock felt faint. This was too much; this wasn’t what he had wanted. All around him, the pirates continued to advance. Captain Gregson stepped out of the shadows and his human face melted away to match the evil of his crew's. "We're cursed, Sherlock, your blood is our cure. We won't hurt you. Yet." 

Crying out again, Sherlock pushed passed the crew, horrified by the feeling of bones where flesh should have been. He ran for his cabin, hiding himself away beneath the bed. Sherlock stayed there until morning, listening to the pirate’s laughing on deck and wishing, more than ever, that John was with him.


End file.
